


Conversion and Bonding

by jaimistoryteller



Series: Q's Collection [2]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Craig movies), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anal Sex, D/s undertones, Demons, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Memories of Nathan, Multiple Character Deaths - See Notes, Oral Sex, Rimming, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: Q pays a man a visit who’s tried summoning him in three other universes to see if this one is considering the same.





	1. Conversations

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:**  
>  1: Multiple Character Deaths - Q sees Harold and John’s deaths in several different universes before coming upon the one where he gets there before they die.  
> 2: Dub-Con because Q just can’t seem to stop from kissing Harold without permission and Q’s handling of John  
> 3: This mostly takes place between chapters 5 and 6 of Devils in the Details

Q’s POV

He smiles as he watches his bonded walk around the house, getting a feel for where everything is at. This is part of their normal routine, any time they move into someplace new, no matter how long they are going to be there, Alec makes it a point to learn all about the place.

“You know, you could have stayed on the island,” he comments as he watches his pet check the seal on the window, grumbling under his breath as he does so.

“No.” It’s short and to the point, much like his bonded often is.

He lips curl into the barest of smiles, understanding what isn’t being said. Alec might prefer the island, particularly the part where it doesn’t belong to any one time stream so they can go wherever they want whenever they want, but when he’s been summoned, his love often travels with him. Because of his human nature, a summoning circle only contains him if it is designed to, otherwise his pet can step right out and break the circle as needed. So far it’s only happened once where it was needed.

Well, technically twice. The first time his love wasn’t with him and he only got out of the contract because the contractor was not as good at turn of phrase as he is, when he finally managed to return home, after having destroyed the man utterly in multiple universes, because he takes grudges to a new level, Alec had been highly displeased to hear what happened. After that his pet insisted on traveling with him.

“This summoner didn’t use a summoning ring, it would have been perfectly safe for you to stay at home and me to travel back and forth.” He comments, smile widening.

Green eyes narrow on him as his pet repeats, “No.”

He nods, continuing to watch his human moving around.

“What does this one want?” His pet queries once he is satisfied with his inspection of the house he has found for them.

The original owner was a bit of a slimeball, though he is certain that the community didn’t know that as he liked to present himself as a pillar of the community. Currently he’s in the cellar, drained dry and turning to dust by the hour. There are some types of people he unleashes his innate ability to kill on.

“I don’t know, I haven’t asked yet and he hasn’t made any of the usual remarks that summoners make.” He replies, holding out a hand and hoping for a cuddle.

One of the things he loves most about this particular pet is the fact he doesn’t mind just cuddling to cuddle. There doesn’t have to be sex.

Chuckling, Alec joins him on the sofa, sprawling so his head is resting on his lap.

He intentionally shortens his nails to a more human like length and takes his time carding his fingers through his pet’s short hair. Green eyes drift shut as his love relaxes.

“I have one of my shades stalking him currently, in a few days I will confront him,” he states softly. “We could leave that night, or we could be here for months, depending on how it goes. I can tell you one thing. He’s not from this timeline originally.”

For some reason that causes Alec to tense up.

“I don’t believe he’s from your original world either,” he remarks affectionately, still carding his fingers through his short hair.

“Then where is he from?” His pet queries.

“Dunno, there are far more universes out there then I have ever been.” He replies with a shrug.

Slowly the ex-assassin relaxes once more.

He’s wondered a few times in the past if other incubi are able to draw energy off of their bonded in non-sexual manners. He’s never asked. Mostly because he finds most of his kind dull and tend not to hang around them too often. There is a reason he has an island that’s technically in between worlds, though it manifests on any earth he’s been on. Plus that one time it manifested on Jupiter. Although that technically hasn’t happened yet, his life isn’t always in order, another thing he’s considered asking others about and decided against.

He knows that his mother was the same way in many aspects. Of course she’s technically a succubus, but that’s not the point.

He’s almost asleep when he feels the draw of a summoning. It’s so weak he could theoretically ignore it. It’s intriguing however since it’s rare for summonings to be that weak.

“Let me up love,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Alec’s temple.

“And if I don’t want to?” His pet grumbles without opening his eyes.

Chuckling softly, he nuzzles his human’s temple gently, “Then I can just teleport from here, you end up face planting in the sofa and being annoyed with me later.”

Sighing dramatically, his love sits up slowly, almost glowering. “Where to?”

“I dunno, it feels new, but it’s so weak, that I can barely get a lock on it.” He replies, leaning into his pet’s side and nuzzling his jaw lightly.

Alec turns his head, catching his lips and kissing him deeply. “I should go with you,” his love murmurs when they finally stop and his human is breathless.

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a few minutes, if only to update you on what I am doing,” he whispers against his love’s lips.

Sighing, his pet nods, “I’ll make some food,” there is a gleam in those green eyes that means he will definitely want attention when he gets back.

Not really surprising as Alec is more possessive than he is. Well. Most the time. There was that one time that another incubus tried getting his love in bed and he didn’t take it that well. He nearly killed that pup, instead he enthralled the younger incubus and gave a massive lecture on why it’s bad form to try and steal another incubus’ bonded.

Between one breath and the next he follows the weak link, taking him to a universe he can’t remember being in the past. At least it doesn’t feel familiar. Of course, depending on how long ago it was, he could have been here and just doesn’t realize it.

He finds himself standing beside a middle aged human with quite obvious physical ailments, using his own blood to draw his summoning circle. That should have made it stronger, rather than weaker, but because the man is dying and barely believes, it didn’t have that effect.

Kneeling down next to the man, he lays a hand lightly against his temple, looking into his mind. This human wants his companion protected at all costs. He follows the connection between them, discovering the companion has already been killed. He can do nothing for this man except give him peace.

He leans close, pressing his lips to the humans and taking his last breath while pushing calm and peace. As soon as the human passes into their next life, he returns to his pet. However he’s already planning on seeing if those two are on any of the other worlds he’s visited over the years.

“That was fast,” Alec remarks as he rematerializes.

“It was, the summoner was a deathbed wisher,” he replies with a sigh, “Not a wish I could fulfill. Not in that life anyways. I am going to check and see if there are other versions with similar wishes or not.”

Sighing, his pet looks away, not saying anything.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, holding a hand out.

Alec accepts it, stepping close to his side.

He closes the distance, nuzzling his human’s jaw and smiling against his lover’s lips when his love turns his head to kiss him.

Encouraging the slightly taller man to step back, and against the wall, he grins as soon as his pet does just that.

It’s a very good thing he can play in the time stream, he thinks as he scatters kisses across his lover’s face then down his throat. His fingers flicks open his love’s shirt as he kisses his way downwards. He spends a few minutes teasing and tweaking Alec’s nipples until they are hard pebbles.

He continues on his way downwards, licking and nipping at his lover’s flesh. He enjoys the soft gasp when he bites down just hard enough to leave a mark. He delights in the low moan as he traces that same bite with his tongue.

He uses his magic to open the buttons on his lover’s jeans, before shoving both jeans and pants down, revealing his love’s thick cock.

Dropping to his knees, he glances up, meeting Alec’s green eyes with the blown wide pupils.

 _I promise to spend an entire evening focusing on you after I follow this curious path,_ he tells his pet as he licks from tip to root.

Calloused fingers sink into his hair as his human sags against the wall.

 _You taste exquisite._ He declares, humming against his lovers cock, _I could freeze time and just spend hours doing this._

“You have,” Alec groans, hips rocking away from the wall.

 _Very true,_ he agrees, sucking his lover’s head into his mouth, tongue curling around it.

“Q!” It’s a drawn out gasp that has him grinning around his pet’s cock.

Humming in pleasure, he continues licking and sucking, slowly taking his time swallowing him down just to tease his pet. He uses his hands to play with and fondle his balls.

He delights in this, being able to touch and taste and enjoy his lover without having to worry about draining him dry. It’s definitely one of the biggest advantages to bonding, at least in his opinion, he knows there are some that feel otherwise, but that’s not his problem.

 _My precious love,_ he murmurs on the link between them. _I adore listening to your pleasure almost as much as I enjoy the taste._

Alec groans, his entire body trembling as he draws ever closer to coming.

 _You’re so very beautiful like this. Half dressed, fully hard, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin._ He declares, swallowing his love down again and intentionally constricting his throat around him. He’s found deep throating to be a rather effective method with him. Probably because he doesn’t have to worry about breathing, so he can do this as much as either of them want.

He shifts his hands from playing with his human’s balls to holding his hips.

“Q!” His pet shouts as his entire body goes tense, coming down the back of his throat.

 _Yum,_ he hums, enjoying the energy spike that comes with ecstasy.

With one last lick, he lets go of the softening cock and rises, hands never leaving their current resting place on narrow hips.

Nuzzling Alec’s jaw, he murmurs, “I love you, my precious pet.”

Green eyes partly open, a small smile curling the corner of supple lips, “I’m still not used to being called a pet.”

Chuckling, he nuzzles the other side of his jaw, “I strongly suspect you never will be, and that you’d probably destroy anyone else who tried calling you one.”

Soft laughter bubbles up as his human nods. “True. Come back to me.”

“Always, love, always.” He agrees, knowing that is his lover’s way of saying the same.

He reaches for Alec’s clothes, planning on putting them back in order, but his pet grabs his wrists, shaking his head.

“Alright,” he agrees, stilling. “I need to go.”

He’s unsurprised when his lover grabs his face, slotting their lips together and kissing him hard.

He vanishes, following the feel of the man’s soul to the first of the many universes he’s been in before. There he finds the man, Harold already dead and his companion trying to get himself killed. He’s considering intervening when a bullet rips through the man’s heart.

Over several different universes he finds many of the same situations. One of them always seems to want to save the other no matter the risk to them. It’s startling, to see exactly how close they are, even in universes they barely know each other. It definitely makes him think of soulmates.

It’s disheartening to see all the death and pain, and the fact he can’t do anything about it. On his last jump, when he lands in James’ original world if he’s not mistaken, he finds a a gravely injured Harold who has not yet met his John but is searching for him.

Like the first one he saw, the one whose death he helped along by minimizing his pain, this one is considering summoning a demon. Unlike that one, this one isn’t dying, he’s just uncertain how real it is.

Grinning, he materializes just inside the human’s line of sight in his true form without a stitch of clothing on.

The potential summoner tenses up but otherwise show no reaction to his appearance.

“Hello Harold,” he greets the human, tail swishing from side to side much like a cat’s.

Slowly the injured man turns towards him, eyes flickering over him. “You can’t be real.”

Laughing, he steps closer, fanning his wings out a bit so they catch the light and gleam. “You are not the first version of you to say that.”

Gray eyes narrow on him, scanning over him a second time.

 _Yes, I am real. Yes, I have met other versions of you. Yes, I can universe hop, it’s not a common trait among my kind._ He states calmly, continuing to step closer.

He kneels before the human, deciding to skip any more words and go directly into the show rather than tell. Carefully cupping the injured man’s face, he presses their lips together, tongue swiping across his lips, dipping between them when Harold gasps.

 _Yes, I am a demon,_ he declares, nipping at the human’s lower lip. _Yes, I make deals. No, I’m not the sort of demon you see in Supernatural._

Softly calloused fingers touch his skin, feathering along the lines of amber flesh and ruby scales.

Several minutes are spent with the human touching him, gray eyes wide as it sinks in.

 _I know what most of your alters wanted, the question is, what would you want Harold Pulsatrix Finch?_ He asks, whispering it across his potential summoner’s mind.

Harold’s eye flutter shut as he takes a deep breath. He can feel the way the human is drawing into himself, processing the information. While the injured man had been considering summoning a demon, he had wondered if it really was a good idea, with his physical shape he’d have a hard time controlling one and he doesn’t even know what he truly wants.

“Come now Harold, you shouldn’t lie to yourself,” he murmurs, lightly brushing their noses against each other.

A sharp intake of breath is the only outward reaction to him.

“What would I have to offer in exchange?” the human asks, eyes still closed.

Smiling, he runs his nose down the side of Harold’s cheek and jaw murmuring, “I’m an incubus. It shouldn’t be too hard to understand how many of my deals work out.”

“You wouldn’t want someone like me,” the injured man replies, his mind reflecting that feeling and a certainty that no one would.

Well that just won’t do, he thinks, kissing the human again and sharing memories of the many version of Harold and John he found. Those that were platonically together. Those that were sexually together. All the lives that wanted to protect and care for each other. He makes sure to show the fact that the genius’ disabilities does not diminish his worth or the amount his assassin wants him. He even throws in the few about Grace with the two men, just because it’s worth his knowing.

By the time he breaks the kiss, there are slow tears running down the humans face, eyes tightly shut. Breathing labored. That was not the reaction he expected.

“Why would you show me that?” Harold’s voice cracks.

He runs his knuckles gently down the human’s face, a soft caress as he wipes the tears away. To him it’s so very simple. “You needed to know.”

He closes his own eyes, turning within to search for any vision he might have regarding this Harold. He’s already got a pretty good idea what the request will be, and while it’s not the simplest to do, he can do it.

Now it’s just a matter of the human figuring it out on his own, he just needs to wait and see how it unfolds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try updating one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/) and twitter @jaimist0
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi, communication keeps the muses brewing


	2. Negotiation and Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harold considers the options and discusses things with Q

_Harold’s POV_

He doesn’t know how to take this, _demon_ , and what he has been shown. Most demons are liars if not bound within a circle according to all the information he has been able to find. He doesn’t get that feeling though, this is something far different.

“A negotiation,” he murmurs, eyes opening and studying the incubus kneeling so they are face to face and so close together.

Supple lips curl into a pleased smile as the demon sits back on his heels, tail flicking from side to side and wings partly fanned out. “Yes.” His head tips to the side, dark curls bouncing. “Think of it like what Jareth says ‘What’s said is said’.”

It takes him a moment to figure out that phrase, and he realizes it’s from the Labyrinth, it’s what the Goblin King says at the beginning. He can take that advice, it’s sound advice.

Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he wipes his face, forcing himself to calm down and to think things through. That glimpse into other lives, other hims and his many potential futures make him want to do whatever he can to stay alive and more than that, to keep John. He hasn’t even found the man yet, but if even one tenth of what he saw, _felt_ , was real, he doesn’t want to risk losing it.

“May I offer you tea?” He asks, pleased when his voice comes out even.

Rising from the way he is currently seated, the demon retreats to the second chair. “I accept.”

He forces himself to his feet slowly, walking over to where he has a kettle and tea to make a fresh pot.

How to word his choice of a wish? What exactly should he wish for? The ability to live without aging and further physically harm. The ability to share his immortality with John. Their job, if Mr. Reese agrees once he finds the man, will be exceedingly dangerous.

By the time the tea is done, he has a fairly good idea how to word his request.

Carefully he carries the teas back to his computer station and where the demon is still waiting for him calmly.

“If it makes you feel better you can craft an honesty ring. I wouldn’t willingly tolerate a summoning ring at this point.” The incubus states calmly, accepting the cup, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies automatically.

“Have you figured out what you wish to barter for?” The demon queries, arching one dark brow at him.

He starts to nod before sharp pain reminds him why that is no longer an option. “Yes.”

Rising from his seat, the incubus closes the space between them once more, slender fingers brush against his throat and the tenseness fades away, and with it the pain.

His eyes widen in shock.

“I have no interest in pain,” the demon remarks with a shrug.

The incubus returns to his seat, watching him with stormy eyes. Waiting.

“I desire to be an immortal, without aging further and not being able to be permanently injured further than I currently am. I would desire to share my immortality with those whom I care for.” He states slowly, carefully choosing his words.

Smiling at him, the demon replies, “I give you two options, conversion into a demon like myself or bonded to me, with the ability to request I bond others on your behest.”

He blinks, taking those two options in.

Become a demon or bond himself to a demon.

“Please explain any requirements for being bonded,” he requests, downing what’s left of his tea and wanting more.

The incubus’ lips curl as he nods, then begins to speak, explaining how he views bonding and his relationship with his bonded. Including the fact he already has one from a different universe. While the relationship could work, he doesn’t know if he’d like the idea of being able to being forced to bend to someone else’s will. So far this demon seems reasonable enough but it still makes him leery.

After the incubus is done speaking, he rises, asking, “Would you like a refill?”

“Please,” the demon agrees, handing over the cup.

He spends the time making the new tea thinking about that option. He will ask about changing into a demon.

“If I was to request to become a demon, how does that work?” He queries, head tipping slightly to the side and watching the incubus.

“As I am an incubus, so to would you be. You would require to feed, which is done through sexual contact, consensual or not depends on your preference. Your body would slowly heal, though the more you fed, the faster it would do so. Eventually your body would reject the metal. It will be excruciating, afterwards injuries will heal much faster.” The demon states calmly, leaning forward, the cup cradled between his palms. “You will need to learn control, just touching a human can force them into arousal, continued contact can cause them to come, and if you draw too much energy as they come, they die.”

He flinches, not liking the idea of accidentally killing someone.

“Would I be able to be summoned?” he asks when it suddenly occurs to him.

“You will know your name, not the one you use, but the name written in your soul, as long as it is never written anywhere or spoken, you will not be able to be summoned,” the incubus answers with a shrug, “My actual name is nowhere, but I have a summoning name which I can choose to ignore, it’s like a compulsion that is difficult to fight. That’s what you were looking at.”

He inclines his head slightly, considering that. It would not be difficult for him not to say his name, he’s never felt the urge to share personal information. He doubts being a demon would change that.

“As a demon, how would I share my immortality and ability to heal?” He questions, arching a dark brow at the incubus.

Chuckling, his guest replies, “By the first option I gave you. Rather than me binding them, you would be the one to do so. Only you would be able to break the binding.”

“Is there a limit to how many I can bind to me?” That’s probably a good question to ask.

Shaking his head, the incubus responds, “No. But I’d suggest only binding those who are willing otherwise you end up with a companion you have to force your will on to keep them behaving.”

He’d really rather not have to force his will on anyone, he thinks, but if they were willing, they could spend years working together until they no longer need to.

“How would I bind them?” He’s got a list of questions to go through, best to do them in order.

“The same way I will convert you, through sex.” The incubus answers with a small smile.

He’s never been the biggest on sex, however if he is a sex demon it would make sense that’s how the ability works.

“What would be the price, for you to change me into a demon?” There is always a price, he thinks, the question is: is it a price he can tolerate?

“My magic works through sex, the conversion will be through sex, and my price is simple but difficult: turn yourself completely over to my care during the conversion.” The demon states clearly.

That’s definitely simple and difficult. He’s never been able to turn himself over to anyone. Would he be able to do so with a demon? Is it a price that he’d be able to pay? Is it a price he’d be willing to pay?

“Would you like another tea?” he asks abruptly, needing to think this through.

“Yes please,” the incubus replies, watching him with knowing eyes.

One more time thinks about the answers and terms as he makes them fresh tea and returns to the sitting area.

For a chance at what he saw in the demon’s mind is he willing to turn himself over, completely, to the incubus for the evening?

 _Yes_ , he thinks ferociously, it’s something he’s always wanted and never thought he’d have. Someone who accepts him. Its something he could have had with Grace, had things gone differently. Even as a demon he wouldn’t go back to her. That chapter of his life is done, even if he still checks on her to make sure that she stays alright.

He carries the teas over, mulling over how he is going to word his acceptance.

He hands over the mug, settles on the edge of his seat, fidgeting with his while he finishes figuring out the wording. “I agree to your terms for the conversion. During the process I will willingly turn myself care over to the best of my ability.”

The incubus downs his tea, setting the mug aside and rising.

He’s certain he shouldn’t stay sitting, so he sets his cup down and stands up, watching the demon warily.

Slowly the incubus crosses the space once more, head dipping slightly, hot breath fanning over his face. “I accept your agreement,” before the demon kisses him again, softly, chastely. _I will return on the full moon. It is your choice whether we are at a location you are comfortable in or within my home. I am Q._

A moment the demon is gone, leaving behind the faint scent of orange ginger. 


	3. Conversion

_Harold’s POV_

Once he gets done being shocked that he just made such a deal, he checks the calendar. There is sixteen days until the next full moon. Now he has to figure out where he wants to do this.

Does he wish to do so at one of his safe houses? What all would he need? He suspects that it’s more than just an evening of sex. How does one turn themselves over to someone else’s care? Is there a trick to it?

Taking his glasses off, he rubs a tired hand across his face. Why did he agree to a deal he probably can’t accomplish? Dammit. The Machine should have been impossible but he did it. He can do this too.

Rather than stress about where he wants to do this and what he will need. He will allow Q to choose. Q. What a name for an incubus. Of course he can’t stop himself from chuckling when he thinks in-Q-bus. What a horrible pun, he’d wager that the demon has heard it at least once.

He’s not going to worry about it. Not for now. Instead he will focus on finding John Reese. He’s had other helpers but none of them have the combination of hero complex and obedience that he needs. The vast majority of them have been exceedingly disappointing.

He doesn’t know how long he will be down for the conversion and adapting that he is certain he will need to do. So he plans to be out of commission from the night before the full moon to the night of the new moon. That will hopefully be enough time to adapt. He’s always been good at adjusting but this is a different sort of situation than he’s used to.

With that decided and planned for, he puts it out of his mind and instead turns to finding Mr. Reese.

The days blend together as he hunts through countless images and videos, looking ever for his elusive prey.

He’s moderately certain he’s found the ex-spook when he feels a chill go down his spine and the air fills with orange ginger. _Q_.

He takes a deep breath, closing down the program and hoping nothing goes wrong between now and whenever he gets back.

Turning to face the incubus, he’s mildly surprised that he’s wearing clothes this time. Slacks and a cardigan, the wings, horns and tail are nowhere to be seen.

“Blending is sometimes easier than being unseen.” The demon answers his unspoken question. “Have you made your choice?”

He inclines his head partly, “I have.” He’s rather pleased with how firm his voice is. “I have decided to continue with the deal as is, with the terms laid out to me, and have selected to go to your home as I was uncertain what would be necessary.”

Q offers him a hand, saying nothing and watching him with speculative eyes.

“Just let me lock everything down,” he requests.

“Of course,” the incubus replies, dropping his hand for the moment.

It doesn’t take him long to lock everything up. When he is done, he returns to where the demon is waiting for him. It’s now or never, and since he has already agreed, he should definitely get a move on it.

Q offers him a hand once more.

Stepping close to the incubus, he takes it.

One moment they are in the library, the next they are in the middle of a well furnished living room.

“Normally my pet would be here, but he is currently watching over someone for me,” the incubus remarks.

“Pet?” He repeats warily.

“My bonded, he’s technically human but he’ll never age and old injuries are slowly healing.” The incubus replies, guiding him to chair and lightly pushing him into it.

It’s rather comfortable, giving the right amount of support and softness.

Q leaves the room without a word and he wonders for a moment if he should follow or ask. He decides not to because he’s moderately certain this falls under the care.

Not a minute later the demon returns carrying a decent sized tray full of foods. A small table appears before him, on which the incubus sets the tray before settling on a sofa and watching him.

“Instinct says I should feed you by hand, however knowing a person’s limits and when to test them is something I have been working on for over a thousand years.” Q states calmly using his tail to motion to the table. “Conversion requires a great deal of energy, not all of it my own.”

He nods, glancing at the tray and realizing everything on it is favorites he has from across the world. This is also care, he realizes, emotional and physical but not sexual, yet still care.

“Don’t feel like you need to rush,” the incubus comments, drawing his attention and making him realize that Q’s naked and has returned to his natural form. “The food will stay fresh until tomorrow midnight.”

He nods again, taking his time picking at the food slowly. He shouldn’t dwell on it too long, because he doesn’t know how long it will take, at the same time, he doesn’t want to rush and make himself sick. He’ll eat steadily until he feels full, he decides, and make sure to thank his host for trying to meet his needs.

The food is wonderful. Each one exactly the way he likes it as if made by his favorite chefs. There is even boeuf bourguignon, the sort that he once had a chance to taste cooked by Mrs. Child’s. It all tastes so good he wants to have a bit of everything and barely notices how much he actually eats.

By the time he is done, he’s feeling rather stuffed and not sure he can do much of anything. He might have eaten a bit too much, he thinks guiltily, if his physical feeling is anything to go by.

Q moves the table and tray, offering him a hand up.

Since the explosion most the time he bristles when people do that, he doesn’t need another reminded of his physical ailments past the pain he lives in. Instinct tells him that this isn’t that sort of offer.

Accepting it, the demon waits until he stands on his own before turning and leading him from the room.

He’s startled when he finds himself in a massive bathing room. It’s something he would expect to see in Japan, rather than wherever they currently are.

Glancing at the demon, he watches the way the steam in the air slowly coats all of that amber skin, ruby and emerald scales.

Swallowing, he has a pretty good idea what’s about to happen and is uncomfortable with it. He hates being naked in front of other people. Truthfully he hates to be naked period.

Stepping in front of him, Q murmurs, “Trust that I will take care of you.”

That’s a hard one to do, but he still nods, it was part of the agreement after all.

Slender fingers start on his top most button. Lightly flicking them open one at a time, he watches the incubus’ face, expecting that there will be disgust or something else of a similar nature.

Head tipping to the side, the demon’s brow furrows as he studies him, “Why would I be disgusted?”

He blinks, tensing as he steps back out of habit more than anything.

To his surprise the incubus lets him, not moving and continuing to watch him with narrowed charcoal gray eyes. Hands drop as the demon studies him.

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward but not to the exact spot he was in. It feels like a good compromise.

A slow, soft smile curves Q’s lips as he steps partly forward, hands coming back up to return to the buttons.

“You could use magic,” he comments, watching the way the incubus nods. “Then why are you doing this manually?”

Meeting his gaze, Q replies, “For the same reason I showed you the possibilities as they have been realized in other lives.”

“I needed to know,” he states, watching the way the demon nods again, seeming rather pleased.

He fidgets as the first layer of his shirts is undone, his leg beginning to ache.

A frown crosses the incubus’ face, realization sharp on its heels. A moment later the demon lays a hand against the skin of his throat, cupping where his jaw meets neck. Warmth spreads from that point of contact outwards, subduing the pain.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes shutting in relief.

Q doesn’t reply, instead the demon goes back to unfastening his shirts. Thus far he hasn’t pushed any of them off, just opened them up. That won’t work for the bottom most layer which is a pull on.

Once all the buttons on his torso are done, the incubus lightly takes hold of one arm, unfastening the buttons of his wrist before switching to the other side. Carefully, as if he is precious in some manner, the demon slips his fingers under the edges of his shirts, dragging them off without looking away from his face until he is standing there with just his slacks, pants, and tank top.

The jackets and shirts are set on a small table, carefully laid out to prevent wrinkling.

He is careful not to look down. While his front doesn’t have the same amount of scars as his back, the slight roundness to his stomach which is hidden by the suits reminds him of his lack of mobility.

Q doesn’t seem to mind however, fingers trailing down his sides and stomach to the top of his slacks where the incubus tugs his last shirt out before slowly pulling it up and leaving his top half bare.

He swallows, closing his eyes because this is when the repulsion kicks in, or worse, pity.

“You’re being silly,” the demon informs him dryly, “I have no reason to be repulsed or pity you.”

Logically he knows he is probably not the worst that the incubus has seen in his long life, but he is certain he’s probably one of the worst he’s ever slept with.

“Nope, my pet was in far worse shape when we bonded,” Q informs him.

Slender fingers rising to rest against his temple, sharing some of the images of what sort of shape the human was in at the time. A wave of nausea washes through him at that. It forces him to reassess his views on himself. Whether he wants to or not is immaterial at this point.

Kneeling before him, the incubus suggests, “You can use me for balance if you need.”

“All right,” he agrees, deciding that’s probably a warning as much as a suggestion and lightly setting his hands on narrow shoulders.

Cautiously, Q removes first one shoe, then the other. Straightening a bit, the demon’s hands skim up his legs above the slacks to his waist, where he takes his time unfastening the buttons, occasionally glancing up at him as if keeping track of his comfort level.

Despite the fact the person undressing him is an incubus, he finds himself blushing when he is wearing nothing but his socks, garters, and tight black trunks.

Sitting back on his heels, the demons eyes rake up him, starting at his feet and making their way up his body to meet his eyes.

He swallows, unable to look away as stormy eyes change to a light ash gray with amber speckles.

_I like your story,_ Q informs him, voice a gentle breeze across his mind. _It’s worth knowing._

He draws in a surprisingly harsh breath, blinking back the sudden burst of emotion.

The incubus runs his hands along his legs, stopping at the top of his garters and carefully unfastens them, before carefully unhooking them from his socks. They are set aside with the rest of his clothing.

He gasps when slender fingers slip under the edge of his socks and slow draw them down and off one at a time. The contact makes him think of the gentlest of caresses.

Once his socks are on the pile, Q meets his eyes again, shifting how he is kneeling as his hands run up the sides of his legs, lightly over his pants, and to the waistband of them.

This is the most naked he has been in front of another person in years, he thinks, maybe ever as he can’t recall intentionally allowing someone else to have him this naked since becoming an adult.

He closes his eyes as the incubus removes his trunks.

“Beautiful,” Q murmurs, hands still lightly touching his skin.

“Not really,” he mutters, skin feeling abnormally warm and tight.

He keeps his eyes closed, but feels the way the air shifts around them as the demon rises.

“Would you prefer handsome or striking?” there is curiosity in the tone and what he thinks is sorrow.

He doesn’t understand why the idea of him not thinking he is beautiful would cause unhappiness in the incubus.

Since he’s not sure how to answer that, he opens his eyes as he shrugs one shoulder with the smallest of motions.

Q doesn’t push, instead the demon takes his hand, leading him around to the steps and carefully walking them into the water.

“I’ve tried to make it to a comfortable temperature for a human,” the incubus states, watching his reaction.

It’s on the warm side, but not so hot it’s painful, so he nods, not sure what to say.

A loofah appears in the demon’s hand, a soft scent, one he’s familiar with fills the air.

Gently the incubus washes his entire body, encouraging him to sit on one of the benches when he starts to tire. Each touch is sure, gentle, he’d even call it affectionate.

He’s fairly certain if they weren’t in warm water with steam curling around them, he’d be blushing as he makes appreciative noises when the demon starts washing his hair.

His eyes close and he enjoys the sensations. He gets a bit tense when Q goes over his scars, but he’s not surprised that it doesn’t hurt. Not when the demon has made sure to lessen his pain as much as possible.

When the washing is done, they spend a few minutes relaxing in the water.

“Will my body change to be like yours?” he asks, studying the gemtoned skin, the beautiful wings, and sinuous tail.

“Yes and no,” Q answers easily, shifting on the bench so they are facing each other. “Over time your body will develop traits to match your personality. First though your body will heal all the current damage. It will take time, though I can’t tell you how much.”

He wonders what sort of traits his personality will form.

“Thank you,” he states, meaning it for more than just the care being shown.

The incubus nods, unblinking.

Several minutes are spent in companionable silence, until he finds himself drowsing in the water.

 “Ready?”  Q queries, offering him a hand once more.

Taking a steadying breath, he accepts that hand as he replies, “Yes.”

Smiling, the incubus leads them from the pool, conjuring a warm, fluffy towel to tenderly dry him off with.

Has anyone in his life ever treated him like this before? Not that he can remember.

Once he is dried off, the demon guides him through the house and to a massive bedroom.

“Is this your normal bedroom?” he queries, taking in the soft wood tones and warm fire accents. The four post bed and candles lit sporadically around the room.  

Shaking his head, Q replies, “No. I share my sleeping quarters with my pet in a different part of my home. This is the liaison’s room.”

That makes sense, having separate areas for private and not.

The incubus’ hands are gentle as he guides him to the edge of the bed, encouraging him to sit down.  

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he has to force himself to stay still as he wants to start twitching his foot nervously.

This bed is huge. It seems almost too big for just them.

Chuckling, the incubus holds a finger up as if to say wait and fans his wings all the way out. They spread further than he realized and nearly the entire width of the mattress is covered.

“Oh my,” he murmurs, eyes widening as the candle light makes them shimmer like polished gems. “They’re beautiful.”

Q’s wings fold back along his back as he smiles at him, “That’s why the huge bed.”

“In perspective it makes sense,” he replies, watching the demon.

“Scoot back,” the incubus suggests, “It’ll be easier on your body.”

He swallows, inclining his head slightly, not enough to twinge the muscles but enough to be visible.

Carefully, he inches further onto the bed, until he is in the middle of it.

Q hops on, shifting so the demon is resting on his knees, legs bracketing his own.

Softly caressing his face, the incubus states, “I’ll take care of you.”

He nods again, eyes never leaving Q’s.

Smiling at him, the demon’s hands feather along his face and throat, a barely there touch that sends the first shiver of lightning through his body. Warmth slowly seeps into his muscles, loosening them up as arousal begins to pool low in his belly. It feels different than the previous instances he can think of. With every light touch and smooth caress it builds higher and higher until he’s practically trembling in need.

Slowly, delicately, nearly reverently, the incubus traces every scar, every dip and valley, and each curve of his body as if it is vital. There is acceptance in that light touch, understanding.

It leaves him breathless with want.

Slowly his eyes drift shut, he lays back as Q encourages him to, unsurprised that the bedding seems to support his body as needed. He’d bet that has to do with the magic within it.

Once the demon has mapped out his entire front with his hands, the incubus changes tactics. At the first touch of lips against his skin, a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, he moans, eyes snapping opening to watch the way his soon to be lover takes his time trailing feathery kisses along his jaw. Q nips lightly at his ear before using the demon runs his tongue along the curve.

He wants to tip his head back to give Q more room as the incubus moves downwards, but knows that would be a very bad idea. At least at this point it would be a bad idea. Maybe in the future he won’t have to worry about hurting himself by stressing his neck.

He gasps as the incubus nibbles across his shoulders and collarbone.

Like when exploring with just his hands, Q uses his mouth to taste and touch him everywhere. Light bites, teasing kisses, flickering licks, softly dragged teeth, and warm breath, it’s almost a sensory overload.

He discovers that his nipples are far more sensitive to being licked and sucked on then he realized. That hot breath fanning over them while wet send a thrill of pleasure down his spine and straight to his cock. That rolling them between fingers doesn’t have the same effect.

He learns that he’s ticklish, more than that however, the sensations misfire and make his body tense up. Before he can even say something, Q’s relieving the pain and moving on to his next place to explore.

The curve between leg and torso is almost hypersensitive. Several minutes are spent tasting and teasing along that line.

If he was in bed with a human, he’d probably be embarrassed by all the noises falling from his lips. However he’s not, he’s in bed with an incubus who seems determined to drag the noises from him.

He wants to curse when Q bypasses his cock to nibble on his inner thighs, instead he moans, fingers curling tightly into the bedding.

He’s startled to discover that the inside of his knee can make him practically hiss in need and since when is his ankle a point of pleasure?

The incubus takes his time coming back up his body, surprising him by curling his fingers around his hip, murmuring, “Let go.”

He almost blushes when he realizes that he was holding the blankets so tightly. His fingers uncurl and he lets go. A moment later, Q rolls him onto his stomach. Despite the change in positioning, he still feels incredibly comfortable on the bedding, making him curious if he’s assumption that it magically adapts to the person using it needs is accurate.

Then it begins again. The exploration with hands followed by the exploration with mouth.

He squeezes his eyes shut as he stutters, “Please.”

Nuzzling the curve of his shoulder, the incubus replies, “Soon.”

He groans, burying his head in the pillow as the demon continues with the soft and explorative touches. When Q’s tongue runs from the top of his ass all the way down to the back of his cock it feels exhilarating.

He wants to squirm or maybe wiggle. He doesn’t want to move ever again because it’s too much and not nearly enough all in one. Each swipe of the demon’s tongue sends a new bolt of lust through him. So much so that he can’t stop the slight rocking of his body in time with it.

His pleasure spikes when the incubus adds a finger to the teasing. Touching and pressing until he’s practically vibrating in need, a plethora of needy noises falling from his lips.

The soft click is the only warning he gets before warm oil is drizzled against his ass.

“That’s right, let the feelings build,” Q murmurs, scattering kisses across his ass, upper legs and lower back. “Embrace it.”

He’s startled by exactly how many noises he can make, each of them unique and full of their own meaning.

The first finger is accompanied by a bit of a burn, friction and tightness, unadjusted to having someone touch him so intimately. That feeling quickly fades away to be replaced by a burning desire for more.  

The second finger is a tease, not enough to cause friction or that burning feeling to come back, not enough to make him feel full. He gives in to the urge to wiggle, trying to get more friction.

Chuckling, Q nips lightly at his ass cheek, “Patience.”

Pouting sounds like a good idea, he thinks before deciding against it and wiggles again instead.

The third finger is almost too much. Especially when the demon finds that little bundle of nerves that sends wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He didn’t even know his body could feel that damned much. It’s breathtaking and he keens in need.

He still has Q’s fingers stroking and stretching him when the incubus kisses his way up his spine nuzzling his throat and nipping at the underside of his jaw.

_You’re doing wonderfully, Harold,_ the demon tells him, brushing over his prostate again. _This is where things get complicated. You have to feel what’s happening as both human and incubus at the same time._

How is that possible? He asks himself before realizing the answer: telepathy. More exact, sharing of everything as it happens. It’s going to be far more overwhelming than just the physical contact has been so far.

He nods, as best he can, unable to put to words he understands but wishing to acknowledge it.

A breath later he feels as the incubus’ mind connects with his.

Q gives him a moment to adjust. Letting him get used the sensations of both of their bodies.

_Ready,_ he thinks, figuring it will be heard with the current link.

Smiling against his skin, the demon’s body moves, the fingers that had been teasing him slip out, leaving him feeling achingly empty. At the same time he can feel the excitement and simple pleasure rolling through the incubus. It’s almost confusing. He has a hard time telling whose feelings and reactions belong to who.

There is a slight pressure against his rim, then Q is slowly pressing forward.

Gasping, his entire body rocks in time with the incubus, drawing him ever deeper. The duel sensation of being filled and being the one doing the filling sends him over the edge. He spills into the bedding, entire body trembling with the force behind it.

_That is always an amazing feeling,_ the demon mumbles within the link. _No I don’t go converting people often, but sensory sharing is something I do with my pet from time to time._

He nods, wondering if he’ll be able to do that if he bonds with someone.

_Yes,_ Q answers, sharing some of his experiences with his bonded. None of them are sexual, but quiet moments like cuddling, playing with hair, and reading to each other. _It’s one of my favorite things about the bond. There is always a link between you and your bonded, though most the time it’s a quiet thing, simply a knowledge you’re not alone._

That would be amazing. He’s spent more years than he can count feeling like he was alone. Even the years with Nathan were often lonely since his friend wasn’t really interested in him.

His mind blanks as the demon bottoms out, his cock buried all the way in him.

It feels amazing, he thinks, swallowing and fighting the urge to move. The problem is his senses can’t tell if he’s supposed to be thrusting into or against.

_Enjoy the ride,_ Q suggests, nosing at the center of his spine.

Self protection instincts flare up, causing his fight or flight reaction to scream to life. It takes everything in him not to try get away from the potential danger, not to struggle. Logically he knows that the demon isn’t planning on hurting him. Hell, the incubus keeps draining the pain away every time his back and neck twinge because he moves wrong or its bumped, but that doesn’t keep his instincts from knowing that the sharp teeth near his spine could destroy him before he could react.

“I’ve got you,” it’s whispered against his ear even as Q slowly withdraws only to thrust forward.

Surprisingly, that’s comforting, just as the sensations of the incubus blanketing him all around. Arms braced partly beside and partly beneath him, legs stretched out between his, wings fanned out around them.

In that moment, he turns himself over to the sensation, forcing himself to stop thinking. Immediately everything becomes immeasurably intense. Sensations and feeling flow freely between them. Building his lust back up and taking it further than he can ever remember before.

He’s close to coming again from the slow, teasing thrusts and the languid withdraws when Q’s lips brush against the nape of his neck again. The difference is, this time when the incubus does so, he doesn’t internally panic. Between one thrust and the next he wonders if that was the wrong choice.

The demon’s sharp teeth bite down, somehow triggering an orgasm despite the pain.

_Make your wish Harold,_ Q encourages him, _Now._

Swallowing hard, he manages to gasp out, “I desire to be an immortal that may share my immortality, heal and not age further. I wish to become a demon.” He’s relieved and amazed he doesn’t stutter.

With the last word the incubus comes inside him, not that he can separate the feelings between himself and the demon right now. Every single sense goes into overload. It’s too damned much. He can feel every inch of his body in a way he’s never done before. That’s the last thing he knows before oblivion claims him.


	4. Senses and Surgery

Harold’s POV

He wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, feeling more comfortable than he has in months. Stretching, he spends a few minutes remembering the previous evening. At least he thinks it was the previous evening. There is sunlight coming through a window he hadn’t noticed before.

Glancing towards the window, his eyes snap shut because it’s too bright.

 _Your senses are still changing, it’ll take a few hours for them to settle,_ Q comments as he enters the room.

He slowly opens his eyes again, pushing himself into a seated position and glancing around the room. The soothing colors he appreciated the previous evening for the aesthetics are still appreciated as they are easy on his senses.

It takes him a minute to realize he’s seeing everything clearly, without his glasses, no matter the distance.

“Good morning,” he greets the demon, sounding louder to himself than he normally does.

 _You haven’t gotten louder. It’s just your hearing changes._ Q tells him as he settles on the edge of the bed. _As I am not the sort to let someone flounder if they don’t have to, I figured I would ask if you wanted a quick lesson in how to control your new senses?_

He nods slightly, “That would be helpful.”

 _Right then,_ the incubus replies, reaching a hand out to touch his temple. _Like this._

Q shares his senses with him. Including a step by step instruction on how to pull his senses back in to a human range. Apparently it’s not something the demon considered until he met a converted who mentioned how hard it is, after all, controlling senses is something taught to children incubi and succubi to keep from being overwhelmed while around humans.

Once the information is shared, he spends a few minutes applying it in different manners to see exactly how much he can control his new senses.

“Better?” Q queries, watching him speculatively.

“Yes,” he agrees with a small smile, “thank you.”

“Sense covered, next thing to discuss: feeding.” The demon comments, as if checking off a list.

“Feeding?” he repeats, remembering the fact he was warned he could kill someone through feeding.

“Yep, right now you don’t need to feed, but it would be foolish to not cover it and to send you back into the world of potential meals without going over it.” Q answers, head tipping slightly to the side.

He nods, that’s an accurate way to put it considering their previous discussion on it.

“Although, I’m not sure I can just let you feel like it’s to me, I was born this way, it’s always felt like it, but I have heard from some changed incubi and succubi it doesn’t feel the same.” The incubus muses, rubbing his jaw absently. “You could stay here until it kicks in, I guess, or I could stay with you there until it kicks in.”

He’s not sure what he thinks of that. In either event, it sounds like he is going to have someone nearby for a time. Even when he worked with Nathan, he had times where his friend wasn’t around for long periods.

“I would prefer to get back to work,” he replies, watching the demon’s reaction.

“That’s fine, I thought you might,” Q agrees with a smile. “Being around people might speed it along, sort of like realizing your hungry when you smell cooking dinner.”

Chuckling, he understands exactly what that is like. There have been plenty of times he has gotten so wrapped up doing something that he has completely forgot to eat, then Nathan would show up with food and he’d realize he’s starving.

“Your clothing is over there,” the incubus motions towards the chair. “I’ll be in the living room when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” he responds as the demon stands up and heads towards the door.

Once it shuts, he throws the blankets off, carefully sliding out of bed on surprisingly steady legs. He takes a moment to move around a bit. He feels a bit stiff but better than he has since the explosion.

He is careful as he dresses. He makes sure everything is orderly before heading towards the living room, taking his time to study his surroundings as he does so.

“I’m feeling remarkably better,” he tells the incubus.

Nodding, Q states, “That’s the after effects of the conversion, the pains not gone, just suppressed currently. I was thinking about it, and you can decline this, you could have a surgeon remove the metal now, while still in the afterglow, and then when you feed it will jump start the healing.”

He sits down on one of the armchairs, considering that idea. In many ways it’s a good one, however he is worried about whether he would harm the person he’d use to feed or not. Would it make controlling it easier if he wasn’t in pain or if he was only in pain once from the healing?

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Q settles in one of the seats across from him, still completely naked. “That’s understandable.”

“How are you so comfortable like this?” He asks curiously, studying the way sunlight gleams on his skin.

Chuckling, the demon shrugs, “I’m an incubus. I’ve always been one. It’s uncommon for the born kind to be uncomfortable in our natural form, though those raised by a human have a higher chance of it because their human parent would have encouraged them to hide their non-human traits. Some even develop easily concealable traits in response.” Snickering Q finishes with, “I will never understand trying to manually hide traits when we have magic and can illusion ourselves into any human like form we’d like. I have not yet met an incubus or succubus who couldn’t use illusions, even among the converted varieties.”

That makes sense, he thinks as he considers the implications. Does he want to try and suppress himself as he develops as an incubus? No. He wants to have it develop as it will and see what sort of traits he gets.

He’s sitting there musing about the changes in his body because of the conversion when he has a sudden epiphany, “Will I still be able to enjoy food?”

Chuckling, Q answers, “Yes, your body will still process food. Allergies will be gone, and it takes enormous quantities of food to put on weight as an incubus, and I mean enormous. It also requires that you haven’t been feeding properly.”

He nods, adding that to his things to think through. “How long will this grace period, as it is, last?”

Shrugging, the demon replies, “I dunno. It could be hours, it could be days.”

Then he doesn’t have a lot of time. He needs to make his choice before the pain comes back, while he is still clear headed.

“Yes,” he says out of the blue after spending an unknown amount of time considering it. Time seems to be a bit fluid in this place.

“Please be exact on what that is for,” Q requests with a small smile as if he already knows.

He swallows, wishing he had something to drink as his throat seems dry right now. “I agree that it would be a prudent idea to have the metal removed while I am not in pain. I am not certain how that would work however as I am not able to safely move without it.”

The incubus tosses him a phone, “I’m good with time, make the appointment for tomorrow, they’ll think it’s two weeks ago you called.”

That startles a snort out of him, “Time Lord?” he mutters only half sarcastic.

Head tipping to the side, Q answers, “Don’t think so, but then I don’t know who my father was, so it could be. Lives in one universe can bleed into others as dreams and ideas, stories and myths.”

Blinking, he takes a moment to absorb that. That was definitely not the response he expected. Truthfully he didn’t expect any sort of response on it. It was supposed to be a joke.

“A good instance to think of: most of the ancient deities are technically deities from other worlds that at one point travelled between the worlds, belief in them across multiples is why they are still strong, while those who are forgotten tend to fade in all realms except their divine realm, and lose strength,” the incubus tells him. “Of course, I avoid gods as much as possible as gods and demons rarely mix well. You’ll know when someone isn’t human. It’ll take time for you to learn how to identify the type of not human. Each variety has their own feel, and its rare for any two non-humans to identify in the same way.”

He calls the number up by memory while the demon leaves the room. Sure enough, the nurse thinks it’s two weeks earlier and sounds a bit surprised when he says he wants all the metal removed. She fetches the doctor, probably to convince him not to do this, but his doctor is a wise person who obeys orders, even when they aren’t liked. Eventually he remarks that he has decided to try something experimental, but it won’t work if there’s metal in his body.

Q returns, handing him a cup of tea and settling with his own.

“Thank you,” he murmurs as he accepts it. He’s not surprised that it tastes wonderful. So far everything has been beyond expectations.

“Ready?” the demon asks when he is done.

Nodding, he rises, not sure how this will go.

“I’ll take us back to your building, you can call for a car,” Q tells him as the cups vanish.

He accepts the hand that is offered and a moment later they are gone, back where he had been when the incubus had first picked him up.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, handing the incubus back his, and calls for a car to take him to the hospital where the very private surgery is going to be performed.

No one seems to be able to see Q as they move through the world. Through every step of the process the demon stays nearby, almost a comforting presence in the oncoming storm of surgery.

He realizes when they go to use the anesthetics and they have zero effect why the incubus is there. Slender fingers close around his ankle and the discomfort of the knife cutting into his skin vanishes. He loses time as the surgery drones on and the only thing he can really feel is the fingers wrapped around his ankle.

When it is over, he discusses his recovery with his doctor, signing himself out. Almost as soon as the humans have left the room, Q moves them from the hospital to bedroom he had woken up in this morning. A moment later he’s out cold.


	5. Bonded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Harold finally meet

Q’s POV

He makes sure that Harold is deep asleep, allowing his body to heal at least some.

Right, now he needs to go find this world’s John Reese for the young incubus. He can encourage the proper bonding between them. Harold will get to feed safely, John will have a home, win-win.

Since he has seen so many versions of the human, it doesn’t take him long to track him down living in a homeless encampment. He’s an absolute disaster. Okay then, first is get the human cleaned up, then is present him for feeding.

He masks himself as a human, forming clothing to look like a well-to-do young man.

His eyes scan over the others here, some of them won’t last the winter. No matter, he can’t pay attention to those outside of his control at this point. He’s got work to do. It’s not surprising when he spots Mr. Reese slowly struggling to his feet.

Eyes narrowing, he reaches into the assassin’s mind, discovering exactly how drunk he is. Well that just won’t do. Or maybe it will. Either way, he follows as the tall human out of the encampment and down an alley.

He snickers when the drunk spy spins on him, hands coming up to shove him hard into a wall. He could easily avoid it, after all, he knows it’s happening before it does.

“Who are you?” Reese growls.

He smiles sharply, “I am called Q.” His left hand lifts, curling around the human’s bare fingers, _It’s time to go, John, your future awaits you._

Slowly the assassin nods, eyes going partly vacant.

A moment later they are in his home, in one of the side bathrooms.

 _Shower, shave,_ he suggests, putting a compulsion behind it, _when you are done come to the living room through that door. Food will be waiting for you. You are not to try and harm yourself or anyone else. Am I understood?_

The human blinks at him a few times, nodding slowly, “Yes.”

He smiles, running his fingers across the back of his hand and reinforcing the compulsion to obey. It’s tricks like this that make some so very nervous of incubus. While he mostly doesn’t use them, sometimes they are a necessary part of his arsenal.

  
While the human is getting cleaned up, he materializes some clean sweats and trunks for the man before heading to his kitchen to see if he needs to fetch something for the assassin to eat or if there is already something here. Perfect, sandwich materials, thank you Alec for liking quick meals.

He throws together a few sandwiches, along with a very strong coffee, and sits both on his coffee table in front of his sofa.

Once that is out of the way, he checks on Harold, wanting to make sure that the young incubus is still out cold. He can already feel that the pain relieving factors related to the conversion have started to fade. Frowning, he lays his hand against the younger demon’s ankle, eyes narrowing as he drains it away and reinforces the painless healing. He’ll do that as much as he needs until feeding begins. The moment Harold starts feeding the pain will vanish into the euphoria.

He hears the water turn off as he returns to the living room, still plotting his next move. For the bonding to be successful it needs to be done willingly on the part of the incubus. The problem is he doesn’t know if the younger one will do so willingly, he’s such a private person.

Head tipping to the side, he considers his options. Biting his lip, he watches as the human settles on the sofa in the sweats, still considering what to do.

Right, he needs those two to bond willingly. So why doesn’t he show them a part of their future where they are already bonded to get the ball rolling. It’s a hell of a lot easier for people to agree to something that’s already happened. Technically it’s still them.

Smirking, he settles on a chair, one leg over the side of it as he waits for the human to finish eating. Energy is needed for what’s about to happen, because there will be feeding and bonding and as Harold’s exhausted the feeding will have to happen first unless he shares some of his own energy. That’ll work. After they’ve bonded he can return them to their world then rejoin his pet.

Once the human is done eating, he beckons the man to follow him, heading to the room where Harold is currently sleeping.

Laying a hand on John’s jaw, he imprints the memories from the various alters, causing the human to draw in a ragged breath.

Turning his attention to the younger incubus, he moves closer so that he can run his hand along Harold’s jaw, sharing with him more memories, one from this timeline that haven’t yet happened but will.

 _Why?_ The younger demon queries without opening his eyes, only to answer his own question, _Because I need to know._

Smiling affectionately, he replies, _Exactly so. Feed, bond, rejoice. It’s a wonderful thing having a bonded that is trustworthy._

He gets the impression of a frown, though that quickly fades away.

 _I’ll leave you to it, if you think at any point you’re going too far, just think my name and I will make sure you don’t._ He informs the younger incubus.

Harold nods slightly into the bedding, rolling on to his side to sit up and smart enough not to touch his back to the bed.

As he passes John, he brushes a hand against his skin, _Be careful of his back, he’s healing._

The human nods, attention turning away from him and towards the younger incubus.

Whistling, he goes to his work room, deciding he should work on a gift for his pet while waiting.

-oOo-

John’s POV

The young man is doing something with his head, he just doesn’t know what that is. He knows that the compulsion to get cleaned up came from the smaller man, as does the one not to harm himself or anyone else within the house. He’s not sure how he got here, a part of him says magic, but magic isn't real. Is it?

Stepping inside the room as the slender man leaves, he glances around, taking in the details the same way he goes anywhere that might be dangerous.

There is a man sitting on the edge of the bed, legs over the side of it. He knows logically they’ve never met, and yet he has memories, his own memories at that, of being friends with him. Protecting him, helping him, as much as Harold would let him. If he is being honest with himself, that isn’t actually a lot. Too much pride and stubbornness to go with being overly self-sufficient.

When he meets familiar gray eyes, it feels like coming home.

“Mr. Reese,” the naked man greets him softly, eyes taking in his clean cut appearance and the surprisingly fitted sweats that had appeared on the counter for him.

“Mr. Finch,” he replies stepping closer, not sure how he knows that name. He also knows it’s one of many names and identities, just as he has had many names.

“I have a job offer for you, and something a bit more,” the seated man offers, watching his face.

“Go on,” he prompts, closing the door and walking towards the bed.

“Help me protect people by finding those whose numbers are up,” the man swallows, eyes riveted on his face, “we’ll never know if they are the victim or perpetrator.”

That must be what the memories are of. At least in part, as he seems to still be hunting people. Sometimes he saves them, sometimes he shoots their knee out, and he’s gonna bet that those he is shooting are those he is stopping. He knows not every time will be a success, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the fact he can try to stop the bad people, try to help those who aren’t bad that matters.

“What’s the bit more?” he asks as he stops directly in front of the man, spotting the scars that run up the sides of his neck. He drops down so he’s kneeling, putting him a bit lower than Harold’s head but making it easier for the other man to continue looking at his face. The echo of the other's last direction still repeating in his mind.

Harold’s legs start fidgeting until the seated man forcibly stops himself from moving according to the way his body goes still. “The bit more is bond with me. You’ll stop aging, heal faster, and live as long as I do.”

What the hell does that mean? What does any of it mean? Is this more magic? He’s still adjusting to the fact magic is real in the first place. With what he knows, the memories of things to happen or that have happened or whatever they are, he knows that he can trust Harold to not want to harm him. That this man is his friend and would risk everything to help him. Is he willing to risk himself now for that to become real?

 _Fuck yes._ That’s the one thing he’s always wanted. Somewhere to belong. To be wanted. He thought he had it at one time, but realized he didn’t, not really.

“Alright,” he agrees, lips curling into a warm smile. “How?”

Blinking at him, Harold tips his head slightly to the side as if he is processing. That’s fine, he is good at waiting when need be.

Clearing his throat, the seated man replies, “It requires sex,” skin turning a lovely shade of light red that isn’t limited to just his face, with the tips of his ears being the darkest shade.

He grins, sex he can do, that’s an easy one. Shifting so both his knees are on the ground, rather than just one, he waits to see what the other man does. He’s got a feeling that Harold isn’t big on sex. From the memories he knows this man is intensely private, this is probably a lot more complicated than it appears on the outside.

Should he make the first move?

When Harold doesn’t move, watching him with those gray eyes as if still processing, he decides to wait until he has some sort of sign. There is one thing he’s never been and it’s one thing he won’t be.

He doesn’t pay attention to anything but waiting as his companion processes what’s going on. It’s not hard to lose himself in his mind while he waits. It gives him a chance to figure out where, or more exact _when_ , the memories are from. Most are from the recent future, but not all of them. Some are a little further out. It doesn’t matter. They give him a look into what their life will be like. More than that, it gives him a look at a life where he is accepted and wanted as is. Where the fact he is a killer with a conscious isn’t a bad thing.

He’s almost startled when one of Harold’s hands rests lightly on his shoulder. A feathery, barely there point of contact.

“Yes Harold?” he murmurs, deciding in this moment, formal names are a bit much.

Swallowing, the seated man asks, “Are you certain? I know I am not much to look at.”

He’s got a feeling this is more about his willingness to sleep with the smaller man, rather than his willingness to bond.

Smiling, he nods, making sure not to break eye contact because he wants Harold to know how serious he is, “Of course. I think we see your body differently.”

Slowly the other man nods, as if deciding that’s the best way to put it.

It’s the truth however. He’s slept with people who look a hell of a lot worse than Harold, and he’s slept with some that look so much better than him. It was part of his job. Why would it bother him now, as it gives him a chance to claim and be claimed? He knows instinctively that the smaller man will never force him to sleep with anyone. That his own limits, something even he has issues with, will be respected.

The hand not resting on his shoulder brushes softly against his cheek. Following the curve of it, tracing his face as if learning it. He wants to lick and draw the thumb that passes over his lips into his mouth but refrains.

His eyes shut as calloused fingers feather across his eyes.

Taking a shaky deep breath, he leans into the contact.

“Please stand up,” Harold murmurs softly, hand still resting on his shoulder, the other brushing down his neck to rest on the other shoulder.

Opening his eyes, he slowly stands up watching the way his soon to be lover watches him.

Small hands skim from his shoulders down his arms to his hands, carefully lifting them and bringing them to Harold’s mouth to lightly kiss his knuckles. Turning his hands over, the smaller man runs his thumb along his palms, tracing the lines. Taking the time to explore every finger and mark, as if committing them to memory.

It’s enthralling to watch how Harold takes his time learning about him one piece at a time, as if he is important enough to care about.

Slender fingers slip under the edge of the sweat shirt, encircling his wrists, feathering further up until the fabric gets in the way.

“May I?” his lover asks, hands letting go of his wrists and shifting to the bottom of the shirt.

“Yes,” he agrees with a small nod, he’ll probably have to duck down a bit, but that’s alright with him.

Slowly the sweater is drawn up to his shoulders, and sure enough he has to duck down a bit for the smaller man to finish taking it off. It’s carefully set the shirt aside before his hands return to his chest, just above the waistband of his bottoms.

“May I?” Harold queries, glancing at his face with clear gray eyes.

“Yes,” he hums, excitement racing through him.

When was the last time someone touched him like he is worth touching? Jess maybe? Definitely not anyone since.

Slowly calloused fingers graze over muscle and scars, mapping every mark on his skin. Personally he doesn’t find them interesting but Harold seems to be fascinated by them. It makes him wonder if the other man would be captivated if they knew what they are from.

“What makes you think I don’t, Mr. Reese?” There is something cool and collected, curious and knowing about the smaller man’s tone.

He shrugs, a barely there ripple of muscle. “Not all of it is recorded anywhere.”

Harold’s fingers are running along his collarbone when the naked man comments, “Perhaps not, that doesn’t stop me from knowing.”

For a moment how he wonders how, then he dismisses that question. There is something magical going on here, why wouldn’t his companion know his history?

He enjoys the sensations, the gentle touches, the slow exploration. The fact that his soon to be lover knows his history, probably a lot more than he should be comfortable with, is actually a bit thrilling. Particularly the part where he is still wanted.

He’s considering reach out to touch that fluffy hair. To see if his hair is as soft as he thinks it is.

“Would you like to sit down?” Harold asks, motioning to the spot beside him.

He sits down, rather than answer. Only problem with this is the fact he can’t be as easily touched. After a moment of consideration, he stands back up, turning towards the smaller man and studying him for a moment before suggesting, “Why don’t you scoot a bit further on the bed?”

It seems like the smaller man has to consider it before nodding and carefully scooting back. Each motion seems almost pained.

Reminding him again that Q, and that name teases the edge of his memory for some reason, told him to be careful of Harold’s back.

As soon as the smaller man is situated, he joins him. Currently leaving his sweats on until his soon to be lover is alright with them being off.

“May I?” he queries, motioning to the leg closest to him, one that has scar knots as if there was massive muscle damage to it.

Slowly Harold nods, “You may.”

He takes his time rubbing touching and massaging each leg. Taking his time learning how to touch the smaller man in order to bring the most pleasure, whether it is through relaxation or arousal. The soft intake of breath makes him smile.

“Why me?” he asks as his hands skim upwards, brushing against the naked man’s hips.

“You have correct combination of deadly and morals,” Harold answers, eyes shutting as he draws in a ragged breath. “According to Q we’re together in most worlds. It’s hard not to believe him with all the memories of the other versions he’s shared.”

Interesting, these two haven’t known each other long then, not with the way he references the other person’s name.

That’s enough for now, he decides, shifting to sitting on his knees with his legs bracketing the smaller man’s. His hands continue their upwards trail. Touching and caressing as he does so.

Hunching his shoulders a bit, he hovers just a bit above Harold. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs, deciding asking is better than just doing since he gets the feeling that his soon to be lover is on the shy side.

Gray eyes study him before the smaller man nods slowly.

Cupping Harold’s face between his palms, he lightly kisses his soon to be lover. This feels right.

Almost hesitantly, the smaller man’s hands come to rest on his hips, urging him to scoot just a bit closer. Putting their chests almost in contact, though it means he has to slouch a bit more to keep kissing the naked man.

This is nice, soft kisses, gentle kisses that slowly build pressure. The almost curious way Harold’s tongue runs along the hem of his lips.

Heat slowly builds low in his stomach, causing him to fill out, and he’s thankful he didn’t put those trunks on, he’s sure they’d be a bit snug currently.

Harold’s gray eyes seem to be getting grayer, rather than darker, that’s different.

When they finally break apart both of them are breathing hard.

Slowly the smaller man’s hands skim down his chest, stopping at the band of his sweat bottoms.

-oOo-

Harold’s POV

All the kissing feels wonderful. It’s slow and exploratory. It gives him a chance to adjust to the fact he’s not only naked in front of another person, something he’s highly uncomfortable with, but he’s planning on being a bit more than that shortly. More than that, currently John is kneeling barely dressed with his long legs bracketing his shorter ones, back curved to put them at the same height as they continue their leisurely sharing of breath and tasting of each other.

The occasional little noises that escape John inflame his blood.

With every touch of his hands against warm skin, he can feel a bit more of his back healing. He shouldn’t even be able to sit up at this point the way he is, and yet he is having very little in the way of pain currently. It’s amazing. He also realizes why, it’s the euphoria brought on by the feeding he’s currently doing as he explores the ex-assassin’s body.

When his hands come to rest on the tops of John’s sweats, he’s not sure if he should ask or not. Logically he knows they will be gone here soon, he just hasn’t figured out the particulars just yet.

One thing he has noticed is the fact the assassin seems to enjoy touching him more than he understands. Large, scarred and calloused hands heat every inch of skin they touch in a tingling pleasant manner. And the leg massage! That was wonderful, completely unexpected and fantastic.

 _Is everything alright Harold?_ It’s a warm whisper across his mind.

 _I, yes, of course, why?_ He replies, trying not to hesitate.

 _Well,_ there is a trace of amusement in the drawn out word. _He’s still got clothes on and you seem to be at a loss._

He goes still, which earns him a confused look from John.

 _This is my house Harold, I can feel when sex is in the air, and it’s definitely not in it right now._ Q remarks gently, soothingly, almost comfortingly.

He’s not sure how to respond to that. It’s a valid point that he hadn’t considered. He’s just not sure what to do. Moving stings right now, and as much as he’d like to take his time tasting every inch of John’s fine body, he doesn’t know if he can.

 _Of course you can, give your pet instructions. He’s very good at instructions according to what’s in his head._ The incubus remarks blithely, mentally shrugging.

That’s a fair point, one he knew since he knows a great deal of the ex-assassin’s history.

He feels the connection go quiet.

Right then, he can give instructions. He’s very good at giving orders. “Mr. Reese?”

Soft blue eyes flicker to his face, coming into something akin to focus. “Yes Finch?”

“Sweats off,” he replies promptly, pleased his voice doesn’t break or tremble. His hands drop from the ex-assassin’s hips.

A slow smile curves the tall man’s lips as his hands go to the top of his pants, shoving them down and doing a bit of a wiggle to get them off his legs.

Licking his lips, his eyes slowly travel down the fine body before him. He knows the history of close to every scar. He’s already realized that he can learn the histories of the ones he doesn’t know as he touches them. They flash behind his eyes like a movie only he can see.

John’s well formed and generously endowed. His mouth is suddenly dry as he wonders what it would taste like to lick the ex-assassin everywhere. In particular over every inch of the hard cock he’s currently staring at.

“Come here,” he directs the taller man, motioning to the spot easily within reach.

Eyes partly closing, John does as directed, kneeling so close he could lean forward and kiss that warm skin.

“Stay still,” he states, glancing up to meet nearly closed blown blue eyes.

Leaning forward, he licks the warm skin, humming in pleasure. His eyes flutter shut as he takes his time tasting every bit of flesh he can reach. He’s careful of his neck, he can feel the muscles knitting together but they are still not to the point he would trust to moving his head too much.

Resting, his hands on John’s hips, he encourages the taller man to lift a bit, which gives him easy access to that beautiful cock.

He takes his time lightly licking the mushroom shaped head, enjoying the bursts of flavors. A combination of musk and salty pre-cum. Isn’t it supposed to be flavorless? He absently muses as he continues the licks. Taking his time following every vein and ridge.

The low guttural moan that falls from John’s lips draws his attention.

Pulling back, he smirks when the taller man rocks forward as if following his mouth.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue out to graze against his lover’s tip. His lips closing around the ex-assassin’s head and applying just the hint of suction. _Are you mine?_ He wonders, not realizing it at first that he used telepathy until he glances up to meet startled blue eyes.

“Yes,” it’s raspy, breathless, a low groan.

One moment he’s taking his time teasing, the next he feels a spike of energy between them, something clicks into place and suddenly he can feel John within his mind, a soft link that feels right.

The link seems to be the tipping point for his pleasure. For some reason the ex-assassin doesn’t actually come, and he instinctively knows that Mr. Reese is holding back. Waiting for permission to let go. He’s not sure how he knows that. He only knows that he does.

 _Come John, let me taste your pleasure,_ he orders with his mind, getting a feel for this telepathy.

He feels the tension releasing, hot, salty ejaculation flooding his mouth.

Swaying in place, the tall man hums in satisfaction but doesn’t move.

With one last swirl of his tongue around John’s slowly softening penis, he lets go, murmuring, “You can relax now. Lay or sit down as you want.”

He’s a bit surprised when the tall man does, nudging his legs open to sprawl between them, hands lightly resting on his thighs as the ex-assassin nuzzles his cock, tongue flicking out to lick over him, exploring him.

His fingers curl in short silvering hair as he tries not to move too much. He’s got a feeling this is just the beginning of their evening together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Publishing schedule, I will try updating one or two stories on Saturday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
> 
> Tumblr about my writing [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/) and twitter @jaimist0
> 
> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication, feel free to stop in to say hi, communication keeps the muses brewing


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